"Well, I think the police-station is the best place to look, but have your own way. It won't take long to see if she is there now," said Wollaston. He was hanging on a strap in front of Maria. The car was crowded with people going to up-town theatres. Some of the ladies, in showy evening wraps, giving glimpses of delicate waists, looked curiously at the three. There was something extraordinary about their appearance calculated to attract attention, although it was difficult to say just why. After they had left the car, a lady with a white lace blouse showing between the folds of a red cloak, said to her escort: "I wonder who they were?" "I don't know," said the man, who had been watching them. "I thought there was something unusual." "I thought so, too. That well-dressed young woman, and that handsome boy, and that shabby little girl." By the "young woman" she meant Maria. "Yes, a queer combination," said the man. "It wasn't altogether that, but they looked so desperately in earnest." Meantime, while the lights of the car disappeared up the avenue, Maria, Wollaston, and Gladys Mann searched for the house in which had lived Ida Edgham's cousin. At last they found it, mounted the steps, and rang the bell. It was an apartment-house. After a little the door opened of itself. "My!" said Gladys, but she followed Wollaston and Maria inside. Wollaston began searching the names above the rows of bells on the wall of the vestibule. "What did you say the name was?" he asked of Maria. "Edison. Mrs. George B. Edison." "There is no such name here." "There must be." "There isn't." "Let me see," said Maria. She searched the names. "Well, I don't care," said she. "It was on the third floor, and I am going up and ask, anyway." "Now, Maria, do you think--" began Wollaston. But Maria began climbing the stairs. There was no elevator. "My!" said Gladys, but she followed Maria. Wollaston pushed by them both. "See here, you don't know what you are getting into," said he, sternly. "You let _me_ go first." When they reached the third floor, Maria pointed to a door. "That is the door," she whispered, breathlessly. Wollaston knocked. Immediately the door was flung open by a very pretty young woman in a rose-colored evening gown. Her white shoulders gleamed through the transparent chiffon, and a comb set with rhinestones sparkled in the fluff of her blond hair. When she saw the three she gave a shrill scream, and immediately a very small man, much smaller than she, but with a fierce cock of a black pointed beard, and a tremendous wiriness of gesture, appeared. "Oh, Tom!" gasped the young woman. "Oh!" "What on earth is the matter, Stella?" asked the man. Then he looked fiercely at the three. "Who are these people?" he asked. "I don't know. I opened the door. I thought it was Adeline and Raymond, and then I saw these strange people. I don't know how they got in."